by Ellis, Aven
I put marshmallows on the end of the branches to demonstrate, and suddenly the vase gives the impression of a blooming marshmallow tree.
“I love it!” Kylie declares.
“Next, we can set up a station with all the things for making s’mores,” I say. “I’m going to show you one I did for another client in June.”
I bring up the picture on my iPad and turn it to Kylie. “We can have all different flavors of candy bars, and gourmet marshmallows, too. I can get caramel, vanilla bean, mocha, churro, peanut butter and jelly—”
“Wait, you can get churro-flavored marshmallows?” Kylie says, interrupting me. “Like the Spanish donut?”
I grin. “Yes,” I say. “I know where to source churro marshmallows.”
“Harrison is going to freak out,” Kylie says happily. “He loves churros. We get them every summer when we go to Spain.”
“I can make that happen,” I say. “And I can get some Blanxart chocolate. That’s made in Barcelona, so he can have a total Spanish-flavor s’mores experience.”
“He’ll love it,” Kylie declares.
We begin talking about the different gourmet combinations of marshmallows and chocolates we can do, and Kylie is delighted by all the different options. I bring up the marshmallow source on my iPad to show Kylie all the flavors, and her face lights up in surprise as she reviews them.
“And rest assured, we’ll have a basic milk chocolate bar and regular, old-fashioned plain marshmallows for those who prefer to keep it simple.”
Like Nate.
My face instantly grows hot, but luckily Kylie is busy studying marshmallow flavors, so she doesn’t see it. I clear my throat and refocus on party planning.
After we’ve finished, we start talking about everything and anything. Kylie tells me about her work as a designer and explains how she works from home in her studio. We talk about the pros and cons of running your own business, and it’s interesting to meet someone who is a young businesswoman like myself.
“I love having my own schedule, being in control of my product,” Kylie says. “But sometimes it’s isolating, too. Not that I miss my coworkers from the boutique I used to work at, but some social interaction during the day is nice.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I say, nodding. “My roommate is a freelance video editor and graphics designer, but she’s taken an onsite job with a banking company, so I’m alone during the day.”
“We should meet up for lunch once a week,” Kylie suggests.
“I would love that,” I say, feeling as though I’ve gained more than a client this afternoon, but the foundation for a new friendship, too.
The dogs race through the kitchen to the back door and begin barking.
“That means Harrison is home,” Kylie says, smiling at me.
I glance down at my watch. I can’t believe it’s already after five o’clock.
“I should get going,” I say, gathering up my things.
“Wait for just a second,” Kylie says, getting up from her barstool. “I know Harrison would want to say hi to you.”
The back door swings open, and in walks Harrison.
With Nate Johansson right behind him.
Chapter 4
Neutral Zone Trap: A type of defensive play — Nate
The second I see Nate in the doorway, my stomach ties itself right into a frozen knot. Damn it, why? Why, of all the people in the world Harrison would be with at this second, does it have to be Nate?
Nate, the only person in the world I’ve ever asked out.
Nate, the guy who couldn’t turn me down fast enough.
As soon as Nate sees me, he stops dead in his tracks. A pair of aviator shades cover his eyes, so I can’t see his reaction to finding me here.
I hold my breath as Nate removes his glasses and clips them on the neckline of his shirt.
And right now I can verify those espresso-colored eyes are studying me just as I’m studying him.
“Hey, I brought Nate home for dinner,” Harrison says good-naturedly. “We stopped at Central Market and picked up some bison tenderloin to grill.”
He shifts the bag to his other arm and gives Kylie an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
“Mmm, both ideas sound good,” Kylie says, smiling up at Harrison. Then she turns to me. “Kenley, please join us for dinner. It’ll be fun.”
Harrison smiles at me. “Hey, Kenley, how are you? And yes, stay. We’ve got plenty of food.”
Oh crap, could this be any worse? Having to eat dinner with Nate, the guy who ran from me in the parking lot after I asked him out? No, this will not be fun. It’ll be mortifying.
Oh, and besides, I feel like I want to vomit, so dinner is a hideous idea.
I clear my throat. “Hi, Harrison. I’m good. Just finished a very successful party-planning session,” I say, forcing a bright, carefree smile on my face. Then I turn to Nate. “Hello, Nate.”
Nate smiles softly at me.
Oh, shit, is that a pity smile?
Okay, it’s official. Now I want to die.
“Kenley, nice to see you again,” Nate says, still standing in the doorway.
Shit. Does he want to flee because I’m in the kitchen? I have to get out of here.
Now.
“Thank you so much for the invite, but I should get going,” I say, the words flying out of my mouth. I keep my eyes down while I put stuff back into the box. “I have so much to do tonight and—”
“Are you sure you can’t stay?”
Nate has stepped into the kitchen and stands directly on the other side of the island from me.
“What?” I ask, feeling as though he’s moved a chess piece across the board, and I’m supposed to do something.
Which is hard because I have no clue how to play chess.
“You should stay,” he says simply.
I have no idea what to do with my chess piece now. Is he saying this to show me he’s cool with what happened? That while I’ve been obsessing about the situation, Nate hasn’t given it a second thought?
Of course he hasn’t, Kenley. Don’t be an idiot. He’s a professional hockey player. Nate isn’t sitting around thinking about the girl he turned down. He’s going to be cool about it because he doesn’t care.
“Come on, you need to join us,” Kylie says, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s Friday night. Have dinner with us.”
Okay. Okay. I can be an adult about this and stay. Besides, I like Kylie and Harrison.
And as long as I don’t think about my whole disaster of asking Nate out, and if I try not to stare at him, I’ll be totally at ease.
Sure. Easy. Completely manageable.
At least that’s the lie I’m going to force myself to believe for this entire evening.
“Okay, I’ll stay,” I say, smiling at Harrison and Kylie. “And you had me at bison tenderloin.”
“We have salmon, too, if you prefer,” Kylie says.
“Oh no. The bison. Medium-rare,” I declare, finishing the last of my water.
I glance at Nate, who is studying his cell. He must feel my eyes on him because he looks up. And the second those gorgeous eyes meet mine, heat flashes in my cheeks. I turn my attention to Harrison and Kylie, like I was never staring at Nate in the first place.
“Ah, excellent choice,” Harrison says. “That’s how I like mine.”
“Are you going to make that maple glaze for it?” Kylie asks as she takes things out of the grocery bag.
“I can,” Harrison says, moving around her and going to the sink.
“What do you have in mind for sides?” Kylie asks.
“How about a salad and grilled sweet potatoes?” Harrison says.
“Perfect,” Kylie says, setting t
he groceries out on the granite countertop.
“Hey, Harrison, do you want me to go out and fire up the grill?” Nate asks.
“That would be awesome,” Harrison says as he dries his hands on a kitchen towel. “We can start on the prep and the grill will be ready when we are.”
Nate nods. He slips his phone back into his pocket and turns to me. “Wanna come out back with me?”
Oh no. The last place I want to be is anywhere near Nate, and certainly not alone with him!
But since I don’t have a choice, I simply nod. “Sure,” I say, making my voice sound cheerful.
Nate leads me to the patio door and opens it for me, letting me step through first. I pass him and get a drift of that woodsy cologne he wears. Despite his non-interest in me, my stomach does a little flip at the familiar scent.
“Oh wow,” I say, stepping on to the patio. I see a gorgeous pool, lots of flowers in oranges and pinks, a fire pit with cozy seating all around it. There’s a guest house overlooking the pool, too.
I also see, to my right, an outdoor kitchen. To my left is another covered seating area, complete with ceiling fans, an outdoor fireplace, and a flat-screen TV.
“Nice, isn’t it?” he asks.
“It’s spectacular,” I say honestly.
Nate moves over to the kitchen area, and I follow him. I position myself at the countertop across from him, needing that buffer as my safety zone. I take a seat on a barstool and anxiously wind my hair with my hands, something I always do when I’m nervous.
Nate starts the grill, and after he does, he faces me. “I need to apologize to you,” he says quietly.
Oh no, no, no. Not pity! I won’t have this. I need to stop him.
“Nate, I should apologize to you,” I blurt out.
A confused expression passes over his face. “For what?”
“I should have made my intentions clear,” I say confidently, although I feel anxiety raging within me. “When I asked you to dinner, it was simply a thank you. I’m not interested in dating anyone either. I’m consumed with Confection Consultations, and it gets all my attention. I don’t have time for dating. At all. So it was a dinner invite and nothing more.”
Nate traces his fingers over his jawline, back and forth, as he takes in my words.
And that’s the truth.
Until I met Nate.
But he’ll never know that.
He suddenly exhales. “Shit, I feel like an ass.”
“No, no, please don’t,” I say, now feeling guilty for my revision of the truth. “I wasn’t very clear on my intention.”
“But here you are, simply trying to be nice and grateful, and I pull a complete neutral zone trap on you,” he says, shaking his head.
“What?” I ask.
Nate grins sheepishly. “Sorry. I drift into hockey speak too much. But I went on defense with you when I didn’t have to.”
Oh, if you only knew how you did have to pull a neutral whatever on me, I think as guilt swirls inside of me.
“Please, no more apologies,” I say.
“Well, regardless, I’m sorry I overreacted,” Nate says. He clears his throat before speaking. “I’ve had a rough year personally, and that kind of reared its head when I was with you last week.”
He’s talking about someone who hurt him. I instinctively know he is. A haunted expression shifts into his eyes, one I know all too well. That’s why he threw up that defensive wall with me so fast. Nate wants to be disconnected from women. And if I understand anything, it’s that. Because that’s how I felt when I found out Chase was a big fraud who never loved me—
“So, can you forgive me?” Nate asks.
“Nothing to forgive,” I say honestly. “Now can we quit talking about this and move on to a matter of substance?” I say, smiling easily at him.
“Oh, we have a matter of substance to discuss?” he asks, laughing. “Well, by all means. Fire away.”
I love the glint that is in his eyes right now. The haunted expression has disappeared, and a light is back in them.
“We obviously need to get drinks,” I say, “so we can toast to friendship.”
A slow, sexy grin spreads across his face, and I find my heart fluttering in response. Okay, we’re about to be friends. But there’s no woman alive who wouldn’t respond to that smile, so I’m going to let myself enjoy it.
And that’s the theory I’m rolling with tonight.
“Friendship. A monumental occasion to toast,” Nate says.
“You only get a first friendship toast once,” I say.
“So we need to nail this.”
“It’s of critical importance.”
Nate grazes his fingertips along his jawline in that oh-so-sexy way he has, and I amend my second theory to include drooling over that move in addition to his smile.
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Nate then heads into the house, and my head is spinning from what just happened. I’m going to be friends with Nate. I know he’s not interested in me, and I also know something happened in his past that has wounded him. And even though I don’t know any of the details, my instinct tells me he’s closed off to protect himself from future heartache.
I understand why Nate’s walled up. Because I did the same thing after my break-up.
Until I met him.
The patio door opens, and Nate returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.
“Watching those two in the kitchen is like watching a cooking show,” Nate says, smiling at me. “Harrison instructs and Kylie’s the sous chef.”
“So do you watch cooking shows on TV, Nate?” I tease. “Is that your reference point for that comment?”
“I do,” Nate says, setting down the bottle of wine and glasses on the countertop between us. “I’m down with any show with a grill in it.”
I smile. I can see that. Nate seems like a grilling kind of guy.
“Now, on to more important matters,” Nate says. “I have selected a syrah. So it’ll go with the grilled bison, as well as dishes that have chocolate as an ingredient in them. Isn’t that right?”
I pause for a moment. “Wait . . . that’s on my website,” I say, shocked. “That’s in my article on how to pair wines with dishes using chocolate as an ingredient.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Nate says, uncorking the wine.
“You went to my website?” I ask. And despite knowing all the rules in place here, butterflies are shifting wildly in my stomach knowing Nate sought me out, just like I did him.
“Yeah. I was trying to get the nerve to call you and apologize. But then I got sidetracked reading. You’re brilliant, by the way.”
I feel a lump form in my throat. Nate sees me. Just from my words, he sees me as a completely different person than most people do.
“What makes you say that?” I ask quietly.
Nate pours a glass of wine and hands it to me. “How could I not say that? You talk about the chemistry of chocolate, creating flavor pairings, how to use it in unexpected ways . . . Your intelligence jumps off the screen, Kenley.”
Tears prick my eyes. Nate saw all of this in my writing. Not by looking at me, not by me getting his attention by eating chocolate, but by reading my words.
And in the brief time I have spent with Nate, he’s just said something no stranger has ever said to me before.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “You have no idea how much that compliment means to me.”
Nate pours himself a glass of syrah and puts the bottle down. “I don’t know if I should be thanked for stating the obvious, but you’re welcome.”
He picks up his glass. “Okay, a toast. To new friendships.”
“To friendship,” I
say, clinking my glass against his.
And as I drink my wine, gazing at this man who sees me, I can’t help but think of how lucky I am to have met him.
We both take a sip and put our glasses down. Then Nate lifts an eyebrow at me.
“And if you think just because we’re friends I’m trying chocolate with curry, you’re wrong.”
I burst out laughing, and Nate joins me.
“We’ll see about that,” I say. “I enjoy a challenge.”
“How can you be challenged by something that has zero possibility of happening?”
“Wrong. It’s so going to happen,” I tease. “We’ll have to see how the night develops, Nate.”
Nate swirls his wine around in his glass, his eyes locked on mine.
“I guess we will, won’t we?” he says softly.
Oh God. He’s perceptive and flirty and even though I know this is flirty with the #friendsonly tag on it, I find myself falling under Nate’s intoxicating spell.
And I see no way to stop it.
More to the point, I don’t know if I want to.
Chapter 5
Ganache: A mixture of chocolate and cream that is out-of-this world luxurious — Kenley
I can’t ever remember having so much fun at a dinner.
We’re all seated around the kicthen table, finishing our meal. While I’m just getting to know Harrison, Kylie, and Nate, everything about the evening has felt so natural.